


The Alpha Male of Christmas Decorations

by archangelgaybriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Decoration Wars, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelgaybriel/pseuds/archangelgaybriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, Castiel Novak may have some fancy schmancy snowman on his front yard with carrots and buttons and a pretty scarf, but that’s okay. Dean’s gonna put up five of them and they’re gonna be bigger and fancier than anyone else's, and he’s going to sleep at night with a smile on his face and no furrow in his brow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alpha Male of Christmas Decorations

**Author's Note:**

> This work is written as part of the destiel christmas minibang over on tumblr with the prompt being "decoration wars"! Not gonna lie it's a pretty good prompt but there's soooo many settings that you can write this with and I was just sitting on the couch wondering what on Earth would be best when I imagined a very close up picture of Dean doing the scrunchy angry face and glaring at Cas who's chillin in his own yard and tada this was birthed.
> 
> I was paired up with the amazing [melamuse](http://melamuse.tumblr.com) on tumblr who I _LOVED_ working with!  <3 Her art for this fic can be found [here](http://melamuse.tumblr.com/post/135540862195/for-the-destiel-christmas-minibang-december-21th) and you should definitely check it out! It's everything I imagined for it's brilliaaaantttt thank you omg.

Dean may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, or the brightest bulb in the box, but there’s one thing for certain: no one should ever doubt his ability to transform his entire house into the equivalent of Santa’s dream house when that time of the year draws near.

He’s the best at it - no arguments about this, no one dares (or is interested perhaps?) in fighting Dean on this _fact_. He’s the best damn decorator in the whole neighbourhood, and probably miles beyond. Children come round to stand outside his lawn - don’t touch the decorations please, that took me four days to make put that down thank you very much - to gawk at his marvelousness, utter and absolute genius.

Giant LED structure of Santa and every single one of his reindeers pulling him on a sleigh? Check. Recreation of the nativity scene with handmade puppets? Check. More gaudy Christmas trees than necessary? Check. Giant snowman twice the height of his brother? Check. Fairy lights everywhere? Check. You name it, he has it. Probably.

To be fair to the rest, his neighbours don’t seem too interested in battling him to be the next “Alpha Male of Christmas decorations” - an extremely regal, self proclaimed title to celebrate his brilliant yet under-appreciated decorations. The only real competition he’d faced was a couple years back when old Gertrude down the street was gifted a small reindeer shaped grass hedge which she happily put in her very bare lawn; it was tiny, not going above the waist, but even then Dean had sweat buckets for weeks coming up with a whole row of six giant, beautifully trimmed reindeers that stood proudly on his front lawn even months after the holiday.

He hasn’t had real competition, until now.

 _Curse Novak_. Nothing good has come to him ever since that stupidly handsome Castiel Novak with his stupidly gorgeous blue eyes and messy dark hair moved into the house across his own.

Their first encounter was bad omen by itself - Dean’s not _superstitious_ , he’s just careful. He’d shook Castiel’s hand a beat too long, caught himself staring into his eyes too many times, and even fumbled over his own name. It’s never happened before, Dean Winchester’s the smoothest and the slickest and he doesn’t do fumbles.

He’s about a hundred percent positive the other man’s into witchcraft. There’s no other explanation for the jitters he gets when Castiel is near, or how his gaze always drifts off to the house at the other side when he’s distracted, unconsciously trying to catch a glimpse of his new neighbour, or how he never fails to get tongue-tied around him.

Now he’s by the window, hand drawing the curtain aside, scowling at the man who’s currently sticking a carrot into a very average snowman on his lawn. It’s a big deal, it’s the Biggest Deal he’s going to have to Deal in Years. He’s been shaken right to the very core, the sudden appearance of the other man already a jolt, now the fact that he’s putting up more than just a few strings of light on his house awakes an emotion in Dean that he barely experiences at this time of the year.

 _Nervousness_.

Dean scowls harder.

As if sensing that someone was watching him (more like: has been eyeing him for a few weeks now), Castiel turns and gives Dean a friendly wave.

Dean begrudgingly waves back, still scowling, and sharply releases his grip on the curtain, as if the inanimate object had told on him and betrayed him.

So, Castiel Novak may have some fancy schmancy snowman on his front yard with carrots and buttons and a pretty scarf, but that’s okay. Dean’s gonna put up five of them and they’re gonna be _bigger_ and _fancier_ than anyone else's, and he’s going to sleep at night with a smile on his face and no furrow in his brow.

* * *

He’s in the midst of firming the base of his fourth snowman when behind him, snow crunches and footsteps draw near. He stills.

“Hi, Dean,” comes a voice, one Dean quickly places a name to. _Fiend_. “Nice snowmen,” he says, and there’s no malice in his voice.

“Cas,” Dean still grits out (Castiel he finds is a bit of a mouthful, especially if he’s trying to growl out his name all intimidating-ly). “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Cas doesn’t seem at all fazed by his brashness, and if he is, he doesn’t show it, a small smile etched on his face. “I couldn’t help but notice your intense snowman-making. Your brother came over yesterday and told me that no one does much decoration during Christmas time except you.”

Dean scowls - he’s been doing that a lot recently, he doesn’t imagine it’ll serve him well when he starts going old but that’s for worrying about in the future. “There’s a competition every year to see who has the best Christmas decorations.”

Cas raises his eyebrows, eyes sweeping across the pathetically bare front lawns of the rest of the houses. “Really? This is my first time hearing about that.”

“They don’t talk much about it,” Dean says slowly, then adds hastily, “but it’s a big deal, trust me.”

Cas merely tips his head forward, still smiling, his eyes ridiculously and unfairly blue. “I look forward to seeing your final product,” he says, and then turns on his heel and leaves, leaving a trail of fresh footprints in the snow.

* * *

Dean spends the next few days setting up the nativity scene again, and once he’d done that he’d gone to the store to grab more tinsels only to find that they had run out after someone came in and took the scarce few that were left. (Later Dean sees those exact tinsels that he was after draped around Cas’ Christmas tree and scrunches up his nose distastefully, irritation sparking within him.)

Cas doesn’t come round to his lawn much, but he still sends Dean little waves whenever he catches Dean looking at him, which always causes a very unwelcomed flutter in his chest which he cannot seem to squash no matter what. Cas also doesn’t seem very fazed by Dean’s usual and abrupt one word answers, or the fact that Dean stutters and stumbles over his words, but most of all he just seems amused that whatever he puts up on his lawn, another five more of the same thing will show up on Dean’s lawn, except that they never fail to be bigger and fancier.

* * *

The next morning Dean wakes up only to discover another snowman right beside Cas’ original one, one snowman too many and it turns his expression sour. Sitting in the kitchen is Sam, who’s leisurely flipping through the newspapers and cocks an amused brow at his pouting brother who shuffles into the room, resembling a child who just got their toy taken away from them.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” he asks.

“Novak’s got a new snowman on his lawn,” Dean explains, sitting down heavily on a stool. “I don’t like it.”

“So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you,” Sam recites, face deadpan, eyes never leaving the newspaper.

Dean stares at him. “Did you just quote Lord of the Rings to me?”

Sam takes a sip of his coffee, face impassive. “I talked to the guy a couple days ago and he’s pretty nice.” Then pauses, and when he speaks again, he speaks slowly and with clear pronunciation and heavy emphasis. “Around your age, and single too, if you would believe.”

“I am not-” Dean hisses through gritted teeth, fists clenched on the table growing redder and redder with each passing second. “I am _not_ fornicating with the enemy.”

Only now then does Sam look up, amusement written across his features, lips quirked up into a smirk. “Is that what they’re calling big, embarrassing schoolboy crushes now? ‘Enemy’?”

Dean barely holds in his splutter. “I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON CASTIEL NOVAK.”

“Say that a little louder, I don’t think he heard you.”

“He- he’s…” Dean starts, trying to think of something bad, some ugly quality about the other man to support his argument but his mind is completely blank, save for his clear memory of just how _blue_ his eyes were, and how he could wax poetry (if he could wax poetry in the first place) about them all day long. “He’s _infuriating_.”

“He invited me over yesterday and turns out he’s a huge Game of Thrones fan too! We spent the entire afternoon talking about the show, and he’s taken a raincheck to come over and marathon it with me,” Sam contributes helpfully.

“His snowmen are ugly,” Dean says weakly.

Sam sighs and fixes him with his trademark bitchface, one he uses whenever Dean’s being unreasonable (he isn’t). “Stop giving him a hard time Dean, for god’s sake, and grow a pair and ask him out.”

Dean tries and fails to think of a witty response; unknowingly, his gaze flickers over to the house across his own and before he can stop it he finds himself wondering what Cas is doing right now or whether he’s even up at this time.

* * *

The following morning Dean finds himself wrapped up in a coat and a scarf, walking across the road to the house opposite his. At the front door he finds himself hesitating, his hand lifted and hovering there, poised above the doorbell before he inhales sharply and presses it. Tucked deep in his pocket, his fingers are twitching restlessly, and he scuffs his shoe on the doorstep of Cas’ home.

There’s no response for a while and he’s about to press the doorbell again when there’s thumping noises and the door swings open to reveal Cas standing in front of him in nothing but pyjamas, squinting up angrily at the culprit, with hair that looked like a desperate and futile attempt to tame bedhead.

Upon seeing Dean though, his eyes widen and he doesn’t look angry, just shocked, and utters a surprised “Dean?”.

“Hey,” Dean begins, but he’s already slowly backing away. _What on earth was he thinking? He just woke up his new neighbour to say some dumb things he hasn’t even made sense of yet, and probably gave Castiel another reason to hate him_. “I, uh, came over to tell you something but that can wait.”

“Oh, no, come in,” Cas says, pulling the door wider, leaving Dean with no choice but to step in.

The first thing that he notices is that the walls and the room are bare, with a few pieces of furniture here and there, a houseplant that looks out of place, and stacks and stacks of unopened boxes lying against the wall.

Cas winces, looking apologetic for reasons Dean can’t think of. “Sorry about the mess, I haven’t had much time to unpack.”

“But the snowman on the yard...?” Dean asks and instantly regrets it, fearing that he sounds too nosey and accusatory, but luckily for him Cas doesn’t seem fazed.

“My parents are religious. Christmas was always my favourite holiday, and me and my brothers used to love making snowmen everyday,” Cas explains, a faint nostalgic smile on his face.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he blurts out of nowhere, and Cas just gives him a puzzled look, head cocked slightly to the side, confused by the sudden change of topic. “I know I haven’t exactly been the best nor friendliest neighbour around and I just- I just wanted to start anew.” His heart is in his mouth and adrenaline is coursing through his veins but Cas’ face is understanding, offering him a little comfort, but still bewildered nonetheless. “Hi, I’m Dean Winchester and I live across you in that house over there.”

Cas takes his hand hesitantly and shakes it, but asks, “I’m sorry, but I don’t see why you’re apologising?”

Dean winces. “I haven’t exactly been nice towards you. One word answers...and all.”

Cas to his surprise, just laughs, and Dean can’t help the scowl that creeps up his face. “Ah, I just assumed you were grumpy. I deal with a lot of that in my family, so I’m quite used to this. There’s no need to apologise.”

Dean falters, the whole thing not going as he planned, and Cas must notice the weariness in his eyes because he quickly pipes up. “Nice to meet you, Dean. I live across you too. You’re the one with the amazing decorations outside your house, right?”

Normally he wouldn’t blush, just grin and affirm the remark confidently, but this time he can feel his face beginning to burn and he just replies a humble, “Yes, that would be me.”

“So I’m pretty new, and I’m going to need some help getting to know the place…” Cas begins, his voice dropping off at the end of his sentence, an unspoken question masked between the lines of the statement. _Single, and around your age_ , he can still remember Sam saying. Dean presses his lips together, trying to clamp down his smile, and offers, “Well, I’ve been living here my whole life. I would be glad to show you around, if you’d like.”

The smile on Cas’ face is blindingly bright and every bit as charming as he expected, and Dean finds himself falling just a little more for him. “We can grab coffee, tomorrow? I could go over to your place, and then we can go from there.”

“Sure,” Dean responds, heart fluttering in his chest, excitement and happiness welling inside of him, and when he catches the other man’s gaze he can see the same emotions reciprocated in his eyes. “I’ll see you...tomorrow.”

* * *

Right at the front of Dean’s lawn are an unmistakable pair of snowmen standing closely side by side, placed in a way such that they’re not to be missed out and drowned out amidst other ornaments, one with a blue scarf and blue buttons for eyes, and one with green eyes and green buttons for eyes. Their twig arms are touching, and on their faces are unmistakably big smiles made out of small black buttons.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok before all of you get mad at me YES I know I used "not the sharpest tool in the shed" to describe Dean but when I use it I'm using it from his perspective - in canon he isn't exactly confident about his intelligence and I thought that using this phrase would be fitting. I do actually think he's very smart and doesn't give himself enough credit and if you disagree you can fight me.
> 
> Also it's 5am... I Love Dying and Being Dead.
> 
> If you liked this please leave kudos and comments and I will looove youuuu and give you my first borns. On a first come first serve basis. Terms and conditions apply.


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